


Facing Your Fears is for Nerds (The Self-Checkout is Out of Order)

by MAVEfm



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon works at Target, Fluff, M/M, Tattoos, brendon likes to jump straight into things, pantophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: Brendon Urie has a neck tattoo and works at Target.Dallon is a pantophobic and names the Self Checkout, Betty.





	Facing Your Fears is for Nerds (The Self-Checkout is Out of Order)

 

Anthropophobia- The fear of people in otherwise normal situations.

 

Dallon always did self-checkout.

 

Whether it was because Dallon had become a hermit since moving out of his parent's place or if it was because the machine was always so kind to him nobody would ever know.

 

But Self Checkout was monotonous and fast, and nobody else ever used the machine because it was a medium sized town and people were afraid it would take their money if they did something wrong. Dallon could avoid talking to the cashiers, it made him nervous when they bagged his own stuff for him.

 

Like they would poison it or something.

 

And conveyor belts were dirty, they could infect his food.

 

He would never, in a seven million eons, ever use the manned checkout lanes.

 

Lines were so bad, pressed up against other people, _breathing_ down his neck.

 

Until-

 

“I can help you over here!”

 

Mysophobia- the fear of germs.

 

The scratched white OUT OF ORDER sign mocked him, the self-checkouts screen was glitching and cracked. Dallon half expected the woman’s robotic voice to be coming out of the speakers: _“Go on without me… I’ll just… I’ll be a burden.”_

 

Dallon spent a few seconds staring at it, wondering who could have done this, was it that gang of high school boys? Lead by that senior nightmare Pete Wentz?

 

“Poor Betty,” He whispered under his breath, giving the machine human attributes made it less creepy.

 

“I said I could help you over here!” The voice repeated, “Sad it’s broken, more work for me in the express lane.”

 

Dallon kicked at the ground with his scuffed converse and tightened his store-bought shopping bag over his shoulder. He followed the voice, looking at the ground the entire time. The cashier was humming a song as he approached, something happy and just a little too loud.

 

“Okay, we got shampoo,” he said, removing Dallon’s items from the bag, “We got conditioner, this is a good brand-” He kept going on about Dallon’s good choice in yogurt and Dallon finally looked up at him.

 

His humming came back as he did a price check on a peach, and he bounced on his heels ever so slightly whenever the tempo changed. Dallon wished he could recognize the song.

 

His clean Target name tag read: Brendon.

 

Dallon smoothed his hair out of his face.

 

Brendon had earrings.

 

And a lip piercing.

 

And a neck tattoo.

 

A lotus mandala type thing that covered the front his throat with intricate twists and turns that traveled up a little past his jawline, there were tattoos on his hands too, something with a clock and a rabbit.

 

 _Alice in Wonderland?_ Dallon asked himself.

 

“Alright, that’s…” Brendon frowned, “Thirty-one fifty? I hope so.”

 

“Hope so?” Dallon picked under his fingernails.

 

“Uh…” Brendon pouted, “Yes, it is, I got it right, even the peach.”

 

Dallon hid his unnecessary sigh of relief.

 

“I can bag it for-”

 

“No!” Dallon’s shoulder’s seized, imagining that Brendon had an invisible infectious disease or the plastic bags he had been reaching for had mold in them from getting wet or- Brendon’s brown eyes got wide. “No, it’s okay, I’ll do it.” Dallon was already furiously bagging everything.

 

Brendon watched awkwardly., “Don’t forget your peach.”

 

Dallon grabbed it out of his hand quickly, “Thanks.”

 

Parking Lots were scary too, any minute wasted you could get run over, Dallon didn’t drive, his hands always shook when he was behind the wheel. He was afraid of hitting someone.

 

He was afraid of being in the passenger seat too.

 

And the trunk, especially the trunk.

 

Brendon was cute.

 

Dallon decided to never step foot inside Target again.

 

He was back two days later.

 

He was worried bugs were getting into his apartment, his skin was crawling and he had barely slept.

 

“Where are the ant traps?” He asked an employee's shoes and they pointed the way to the outdoor section.

 

He passed an aisle with the soft furniture.

 

“Hey!” Someone was laughing and Dallon’s heart leaped into his throat, was he walking weird? Had he made a stupid face? “Hey! Peach guy!”

 

Peach Guy.

 

Brendon was folding a soft blanket onto a display of modern art chairs that Dallon thought were actually pretty comfortable.

 

“What are you looking for?” Brendon hopped down and smiled even wider, “This lamp looks like a giraffe.” He pointed to the gold and white lamp as Dallon fast-walked away. “Outdoor section huh?” Brendon was practically jogging to keep up, “Hey, uh, I wasn’t just laughing at nothing back there so you know, peach guy, I was talking to myself and I made a really good joke.”

 

Dallon nodded.

 

“So what are you looking for, peach guy?” Brendon was red in the face, probably because he was walking so fast, being followed made Dallon shake.

 

“There are ants in my house.” Dallon pointed to the Raid when they both came to a stop and Brendon handed him the ant traps.

 

Entomophobia- The fear of insects.

 

“Oh that’s too bad-” Brendon smoothed his dark hair from his eyes, “-My friend Ryan got millipedes in his place once, god those things make me want to scream-” Dallon nodded in agreement all of a sudden.

 

“I’m really scared of bugs.”

 

“Me too!” Brendon lit up, “Cockroaches, yuck, I’m Brendon!”

 

He stuck his hand out and Dallon tightened, thinking Brendon might suddenly slap him.

 

Dallon shook Brendon’s hand, “I’m Dallon.”

 

They walked together back to the checkout lanes.

 

Brendon checks out the Raid in his Express Lane.

 

“You’re really cute, Dallon, like a peach.”

 

Dallon’s heart pounds. Is Brendon following him home? Has he been stalking him on his Facebook?

 

Dallon fast walks out of the parking lot.

 

Has his computer been hacked?

 

He has a dentist appointment coming up, it’s enough to keep him up the entire night.

 

The news scares him, cop shows make his breathing shallow, horror movies are always off the table.

 

Now it’s just too dark, he can’t turn off the lights.

 

He hates this.

 

Why is he afraid of everything?

 

He gets his groceries from the gas station instead, later that week.

 

Aphenphosmphobia – The fear of intimacy.

 

The cashier is a guy named Kenny, he’s loud as he talks to the second cashier, Jon.

 

“God, I can’t get away from it!” Kenny rings up Dallon’s skim milk, “He’s got such a big crush on this asshole, can’t stop talking about him.”

 

“That’s cute!” Jon rang up a lady’s bag of chips, “He’s in love or something!”

 

“Not when he only knows the guy’s name!” Kenny shot back, “I love Brendon to pieces but-”

 

Dallon sprints out of the station without his bananas.

 

He calls in sick to his job for the next two days.

 

His soft couch blanket is from Target, he almost throws it away, hyperventilating.

 

He calls his mom.

 

“It’s okay to be scared, baby,” Her voice makes him not afraid for a second.

 

“Why do I have to be so paranoid all the time? About everything?”

 

His mother sighs, “Baby… There’s nothing wrong with you, just… have anxiety and I know you were always shy as a kid.” She lets him sniffle for a second, “And you just moved out and you’re all alone in that apartment… Do you want me to come over?”

 

“No, mom, it’s okay.”

 

He returns to Target.

 

 _I’m not afraid of everything,_ he tells himself.

 

Pantophobia- The fear of everything, or, the vague and persistent dread of some unknown evil.

 

Brendon is in the Express Lane, Dallon takes his time getting there.

 

“This is more than ten items,” Brendon sounds glum.

 

“Um,” Dallon wrings his hands, “Did you know that the fear of Bananas is just called banana-phobia?”

 

Brendon snorts, “Wow really?”

 

“And um,” Dallon squeezes his fists, “The fear of buttons is called Koumpounophobia?”

 

“There’s a fear of buttons!?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Dallon gave him a small smile, “I really like your tattoo.”

 

Brendon touched his neck, “Hey thanks!” He paused, “You know I get tattoos because I’m afraid of needles?”

 

“Trypanophobia,” Dallon nodded.

 

His nails had pressed so hard into his palms, they left marks. But Brendon stops him as he exits onto the parking lot, making Dallon seize when he grabs his shoulder. For a moment he’s frozen.

 

“Oh my god,” Brendon jumps back, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry I scared you… I just, I didn’t want to be a total chicken… I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee or something? There’s a Starbucks just inside?”

 

Dallon is afraid his heart might pound out of his chest.

 

He doesn’t know this person, past his name and his fear of needles, Brendon is a complete stranger. A sociopath planning to murder him, sneak into his home and slit his throat-

 

“Why?” Dallon squeezed his fingernails back into his palms, “I don’t get this.”

 

“I think you’re really-” Brendon coughed, “-My mom always says I should go for it right away, you know if I think someone is sweet...Sorry if I’m really sudden, I can back off if you want me to, sorry.”

 

He was pulling at his red polo shirt as tight as he could.

 

And then they were sitting in the Target Starbucks.

 

He was tearing his fingernails off at the ends, Brendon was nervously sipping at his hot chocolate.

 

Dallon realized he had never considered how afraid Brendon must be of him too.

 

“I’ve never really dated anyone,” Brendon could talk and talk and talk if he wanted to, “I’m in a band, we’re in town!- Yeah, my family’s pretty big-” And he could always talk faster and faster.

 

Dallon felt hot.

 

“I’ve dated like two people before.” He finally said, staring at the wood table between them. Brendon shut his mouth so fast Dallon could hear his teeth click.

 

“I’m still friends with one… the other said I’m high maintenance.” He flashed Brendon a smile and he giggled.

 

“Why would you be high maintenance?” Brendon tilted his head and smiled.

 

Dallon thought for a moment and his smile faded slightly, “Because I’m afraid of everything.”

 

“Well, I’m sure not _everything_ -” Brendon frowned, “-Maybe she was just a jerk.”

 

“I’m afraid of germs, the dentist, bugs, heights, small spaces-”

 

“Well, those are pretty normal things to be afraid of-”

 

“-Big crowds, driving, babies, old people, being alone, dolls, hospitals, loud noises, flying, public speaking, talking on the phone, clowns… hair kinda freaks me out too but only when it’s loose,” Dallon fidgeted for a moment, “I used to not like the number thirteen-” Brendon snorted and Dallon wrapped his arms around himself, not wanting to look Brendon in the eyes.

 

But Brendon was smiling so his eyes got crinkled, his lip piercing shined in the fluorescent lights.

 

“You’re so cute,” He leaned forward slightly, “Like a peach, just like I said.”

 

Philophobia- The fear of falling in love.

 


End file.
